


Fly So High

by Ruunkur



Category: Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Alcohol, Implied Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 06:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18515383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruunkur/pseuds/Ruunkur
Summary: It's been so long since you've talked to someone who was there and who understood.So long since you didn't have to explain yourself, that someone knew.Only, you knew there was only four of you. And the odds of someone finding you were slim. So you spend your evenings drinking; drinking to remember, to forget, to get lost.But drinking all the same.





	Fly So High

Your fingers glide along the top of the wood, stopping just an inch short of the glass standing there.

You don't know how long you have been playing this game with yourself.

Long enough to know that the bartender would glance at you every few seconds, then turn away when you caught her looking.

Long enough for the storm to break and descend on those unfortunate enough to be caught outside.

Long enough for you to question if you should drink from the glass in front of you, or order a new one to play the same waiting game with.

Now, as you catch the bartender staring at you again, you pick up the drink, lifting it towards her. With a small smirk, you tip it back, feeling the burn of the whiskey down your throat.

When you set the glass back on the bar, she's standing there, purple hair pulled back, eyes flashing.

"You're that genius kid from a while back, aren't you?"

There's a gleam in her eyes that you don't like as you offer her a simple shrug. The glass gets set back down, the sound almost too sharp in the quiet that followed the question. "There's been a couple of genius kids in the last few years. You're probably going to have to be a tad bit more specific than that."

"Ichijouji Ken."

The name breaks you, and you feel yourself falling backwards. There's pain as you let just the corner of your mouth pull down into a frown. You haven't fallen off your stool, but you feel your stomach relocating to your mouth all the same.

The sensation of falling from hundreds of feet in the air, that was something that you had been accustomed to. But it still does not dull the pain of being reminded.

"That's a name that hasn't been heard in a long time."

You let your gaze slide to the side, watching as the other regular -at least you assumed he was a regular, with how he chatted up the bartender- turned to look at you. His eyes were bright, the blue stunning for such a dark, drab place.

"May I have another, please?" Your voice catches the bartender off-guard and she turns, pulling out the bottle and pouring you another glass of whiskey.

The amber coloring catches the light and you draw your hand away, ready to start the dance of tempting yourself to drink or to not drink."

The bartender is still looking at you, eyes narrowed in quiet contemplation, while the blue-eyed man has the decency to nod at you, before returning his gaze to his own drink.

"I heard about you, in the wars. You were on the forefront of it, the first rising tide that had to face the horrors that were out there."

The man's words are quiet, and you glance at him once more. He has a distant look, when he glances back at you. He drops his gaze to his drink, words soft.

You allow yourself a snort, drawing your hand closer to the whiskey.

There were nights where you still heard the screams and felt the horrifying sensation of being burned alive.

"There were four of you, the first four. Before they sent the second round, wasn't there?"

You feel yourself sigh, realize that you wouldn't get out of this conversation, not now that you had the man's attention.

"May I buy you a drink?"

Your question catches him, and you watch him jump. Your mask is back in play and you see him look up at you.

"Why?"

"To get you to stop asking questions."

The man smirks now, his mouth transforming into something that you didn't understand. When he looks at you again, you realize that there is a scar marring his face, running over his right eye. The bartender has, wisely, backed off, heading to the opposite end where her only other customer was.

"Code Name Angel."

You arch an eyebrow, keeping your features otherwise neat. The name has the look of a beaten down soldier, now that you see him closer in the dim light.

"We finished what had been started."

"Jogress Alpha One."

You see the man's eyes change and you see his body stiffen. He was maybe two years younger than you, but you understood the motion to know that he had been trained to respond.

"Ichijouji Ken."

This time, the name is spoken with shock and quiet understanding. You smile at him, reaching a finger up and tapping your eye.

"What happened to you?"

He just shook his head. "I could ask you the same."

"During the fight, my partner and I got... manually separated. I survived."

"Takaishi Takeru." The man held out his hand and you accepted it, gaze darting to the other end of the bar. There had been two teams that had been Jogress partners. You and your partner, and another pair of men. One Ishida Yamato and one Yagami Taichi.

From your understanding, Yagami had not made it out of the fight either.

But that had been after you and your partner had been decommissioned. The fighting was still raging and they had new people to attempt to harness the powers and the spirits in order to fight. You had never wondered, beyond understanding that your home was no longer at threat, what had happened to the other warriors.

The information had been considered classified.

Though it did nothing for the nightmares you were left.

"Took an ill-advised attack to the face. Stopped the attack, cost me my good looks."

When the bartender started back your way, you notice that Takeru turned, watching her. Your back was to the wall, the door in your sight. There were things that you would never be able to untrain yourself in, no matter how soundly you slept at night.

"Were you in the final battle?"

The man nodded, sitting up straight. "We had a team of eight, seven if you take in the jogress partners. Took everything we had, but we got back the enemy."

You swallow past the lump in your throat.

You had spent the last year in a coma after your accident. When you had awoken, the fighting was over and you had been decommissioned.

Your partner had his funeral two days after you had settled into the coma.

Takeru gave you a glance, straightening. "The final battle, we suffered many losses. Only three of us walked off the field. We-"

"Were dubbed heroes and you are."

There is a clink of glass and both of you jump, watching the bartender let out a sigh.

"Keru..."

"There are still wounds that can't be fixed, Miya." Takeru's tone is soft, but there is a force behind it that you admire. That reminded you of the other blond, that you had grown fond of working with. He and Taichi had been so much like you and Daisuke, you had wanted to laugh.

So similar and yet so different at the same time.

"Drinks are on the house tonight."

Miya's voice drags you out of your memories, and you see her chatting about something with Takeru. There's another glass in front of you, and you're still clenching the empty whiskey glass.

When you get up to leave, Takeru glances at you.

"Mind if we keep in touch?"

You glance from him to Miya, feeling awkward as you give him a hesitant nod.

It feels strange to exchange numbers and, when you leave the bar, you feel lighter than you have felt in ages. You feel as if you could reach out to the power you had so many years ago and be able to leave the ground once more.

But the endless pull of gravity reminded you of the fire that burned, down below. The one that kept you up at night. There, you were to stay.

Feet planted firmly, with the idea of death so near.

**Author's Note:**

> I really just want a shot of _something_


End file.
